


Recovery

by JadeSabre83



Series: Rhiona's Story [5]
Category: Inbound Flight, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Angst, Chiss/Human relationship, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Inbound Flight shenanigans, Injury Recovery, Multi, No Beta We Die Like Clones, OT3, Plotting with Queenie needs its own tag, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-OT3, This smol OC has taken over my entire life, Thrawn and Formbi have Big Uncle Energy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:48:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29597184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeSabre83/pseuds/JadeSabre83
Summary: Rhiona is finally free from the Csoen'ehe'ah'otcahi Genome Research Facility. The road to recovery will not be an easy one.But she has two Chiss by her side to help her along the way.
Relationships: Rhiona Lascelles/Fitaetao | Chaf'itaeta'osdec/Thoolaisa | Mitth'oola'isacsi
Series: Rhiona's Story [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158932
Comments: 34
Kudos: 4





	1. The Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queenie Chi Cosplay (QueenieWithABeenie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenieWithABeenie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Inbound Flight: For Home and Song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493898) by [QueenieWithABeenie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenieWithABeenie/pseuds/QueenieWithABeenie). 



> _Massive_ spoilers for [Inbound Flight: For Home and Song.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493898/chapters/69820137) Make sure you're caught up on that.
> 
> This will likely follow the updates of Inbound Flight, adding on Rhiona's perspective of events.

_Don't fall away and leave me to myself_   
_Don't fall away_   
_And leave love bleedin' in my hands, in my hands again_

_—Hemmorage (In My Hands),_ Fuel

~~~

For three days now they’ve drugged Rhiona, then locked her in another room with Ezra until they...until they _mate._ That’s the only proper word to describe what happens, the only thing that makes any sense given the understanding that they removed her contraceptive implant at some point. The _why_ becomes more clear on the second day when she and Ezra manage to talk for more than five minutes before they rip each other’s clothes off; Ezra is a _Jedi._ An actual, living, breathing Jedi. That knowledge (as difficult as it is to process in and of itself) combined with Fitaetao’s words of her _gift_ paint a fairly clear (yet terrifying) picture: they want to produce a Jedi child.

Rhiona doesn’t consider what they do as rape; not when Ezra’s drugged out of his mind like she is. But neither is it just sex, or even making love. It’s something else. Something that her mind doesn’t want, despite what her body thinks. She starts crying as they’re in the middle of things that second day, and it’s the night of the third day, when Fitaetao takes her into his arms without saying a word, that she realizes that her heart doesn’t want it as well.

And she knows, deep within her soul, that it’s not what Fitaetao’s heart wants either.

Love had never really crossed Rhiona’s mind before.

Sure, she knew what it was. She’s seen plenty of examples of love, be it the familial sort with her momma and brothers, or the more romantic realm of things with Corbin and Jax and their wives. As for her, personally, she’d certainly experienced a sort of...strong infatuation before, but never something bordering on _love._

Never something like this, where her very soul sings at the mere thought of someone.

But of course the situation itself is...beyond complicated. So she doesn’t speak of it, especially not when she’s expecting more _visits_ with Ezra.

When the door to her cell opens early the morning of the fourth day, that’s exactly what she’s expecting; a nurse to drug her, and two orderlies to drag her off to the other room. Except it’s not—it’s a lone doctor. One she recognizes, but hasn’t learned the name of yet. She looks frantic, and Rhiona can feel the chaotic energy rolling off of her in waves.

“Let’s go, little one.” The doctor says in flowing Cheunh. “Time to get you out of here.”

Rhiona blinks a few times at that, re-translating the words in her head just to be certain she’s heard correctly.

_Time to get out of here?_

She doesn’t want to believe it, yet she knows (maybe this really _is_ a gift) that the doctor is telling the truth.

Still, it’s with no small amount of hesitation that Rhiona (slowly) rises from the bed and approaches the door. She’s just a few steps away when a shadow swoops in behind the doctor—no, not a shadow.

_Nivela._

She learned the name of the director of this horrid place one night from Fitaetao. In Rhiona’s opinion, it’s far too pretty of a name for someone with such an ugly soul.

Nivela slits the doctor’s throat from side to side, almost down to the bone, without even blinking. All Rhiona can do is stare on in silent horror as blood spurts out of the wound, and the doctor goes scrambling out into the corridor leaving Nivela in the doorway. The director clutches onto the scalpel, eyes narrow as she stares at Rhiona. 

And Rhiona knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this fight will literally be the fight of her life.

The director is shorter than most Chiss, but she still has at least 25 centimeters on Rhiona and she’s using every single one to her advantage as she stalks towards her prey. But Rhiona is used to using her sleight stature to _her_ advantage, so she goes low, trying to slide by the doctor.

Either the doctor knew that move was coming, or she’s just _that_ fast, but either way it doesn’t work. Nivela grabs Rhiona by the collar of her jumpsuit. Rhiona screams, thrashing about and knocking into the chair. In the blink of an eye, Nivela has Rhiona in an impossible grip, scalpel pressed against her throat. Pure terror seeps into her bones and she lets out a whimper, not daring to so much as flinch for risk of the scalpel slicing into her skin.

What happens next happens so quickly that her brain isn’t able to keep up; one second Fitaetao is there, weapon in hand.

The next, she’s on the ground, choking on her own blood.

It feels like an eternity before Fitaetao is there, kneeling next to her, and it’s when he wraps his hands around her wound that she finally feels pain. She chokes out a sob, a shaking hand finding its way to grab a fistful of Fitaetao’s shirt.

_I don’t wanna die._

She tries to say the words, to call out for her momma, to say _anything_ , but all that comes out is a high-pitched squeak. So she does the next best thing she can and stares straight into Fitaetao’s eyes, not flinching away this time when she feels herself being sucked into that same vortex. Her soul cries out, latching onto Fitaetao’s, and rather than fear she feels comfort. A sense of peace, of belonging. It’s as though their souls are singing in a harmony only she can hear.

Moments later a third voice enters the harmony. Fitaetao’s hands are replaced by ones that are slightly smaller, but just as firm as they try to stop the blood from gushing out of her neck too quickly. Rhiona shifts her gaze to the newcomer, instantly recognizing the Chiss woman from the raid on the _Devastator._ And again, rather than fear, she feels comfort.

But the song grows weaker with each frantic beat of her heart. Rhiona can feel her own blood pooling beneath her, soaking into her hair. It’s more and more difficult to just keep her eyes open, eyes that she shifts back to Fitaetao (for one last time?), wishing she could put sound behind the words.

_I love you._

Fitaetao’s frantic stare and the shouts of the medics as they arrive on scene are the last things she’s aware of before everything fades to black.


	2. The Interim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere between life and death, Rhiona has a family reunion.

_I dreamt we spoke, I dreamt we spoke again_  
_It'd been so long, it'd been so long my mind filled in the blanks_  
_I dreamt we spoke, I dreamt we spoke again_  
_It'd been so long, it'd been so long, your voice was like a ghost_

_–I Dreamt We Spoke Again,_ Death Cab For Cutie

~~~

At first, there’s nothing.

Just an overwhelming sense of nothingness. Of emptiness.

Darkness.

There’s no light at the end of a tunnel, no scenes of her life playing out before her. Just a never ending expanse of black. And then...

And then there’s a sense of comfort.

Of  _ home. _

And not the  _ Devastator, _ or even the Academy or Yaga Minor, but Bakura. She can feel the summer heat on her face, smell the humidity in the air, hear the floorboards of their front porch creaking with the gentle back-and-forth motion of the rocking chair. 

Rhiona slowly opens her eyes, blinking a few times, and when her vision clears it’s to the image of her daddy.

Now, it’s been damn near two decades since she’s seen the man, but he’s every bit as wonderful and perfect as she (as a three year old) remembers, all the way down to the cybernetic arm and the slight twinkle of mischief in his eye.

But the first emotion to dance across her mind at seeing her daddy again isn’t joy; it’s confusion tinged with the slightest amount of fear. Because if she’s here with him...

“Am I...?”

“No, baby girl.” He leans forward in his chair to hand her a glass of her momma’s famous sweet tea. “You’re sorta...in between, right now.”

“Oh.”

It doesn’t really make a whole lotta sense to her, but, hey. She’s here with her daddy, and it’s been a minute since she’s been able to have her momma’s sweet tea. For some reason it feels more refreshing than normal on her throat, and her brows furrow (further) in confusion for a moment.

Her daddy lets out a soft chuckle. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, baby girl.” He’s got his pipe now, the familiar smell of the smoke taking her all the way back to distant memories. “The gods and goddesses are humorin’ an old man for a short spell. You just relax and drink your tea.”

“Pa.” When there’s no immediate response from her daddy, the voice speaks again, this time with a tad more insistence. “ _ Pa. _ She deserves to know.”

That voice, it’s...

“Ravi.” Rhiona gasps out the name, shooting up and out of her chair to rush into the arms of her twin brother.  _ Wait, if he’s here, that means..." _ Oh, Ravi...”

“Hey, it’s okay, Rhi.” Ravi brushes away the tears she wasn’t even aware she had shed. “We both knew what being a pilot meant.”

“I know, but—”

“Hey, really, it’s okay. Pa’s here. So’s Jax, and Mikail.”

Rhiona sniffles, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. Well, that certainly answers  _ that. _ For the longest time she had only known the fate of Jax since she had witnessed his death first hand. Having confirmation of the fate of her other brothers is comforting, even if all of this is still (very) confusing.

“So Corbin is...?”

“Yep.” There’s a slight frown on Ravi’s face, but that’s not what draws her attention; no, it’s the fact that behind him where the doorway should lead to the interior of their house there’s a...a medbay room?

It’s certainly not a room she immediately recognizes. Neither does she immediately recognize the smale, pale form in the too-large bed with so many wires and tubes coming out of it that it seems more machine than human. Then she catches the spattering of freckles that seem to stand out even more against the almost-white skin and the brown (if lacklustre) hair, and...

“That’s me.”

“It is, baby sis.”

“Jax.”

Rhiona turns towards the brother she last saw lying dead on the deck of the  _ Devastator, _ tears already stinging her eyes (and how she can remember  _ that _ but not how she wound up  _ here _ is beyond her).

“Listen, Rhi, we ain’t got much time, but what I did—” Jax’s voice catches before he continues, “—what I did, it wasn’t right. I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head, always ready to defend her brother's actions even if the words seem somewhat forced. “It’s okay, Jax. You were just followin’ orders.”

“No, it’ ain’t, Rhi.” Jax places his hands on her shoulders. “I know it don’t make a whole lotta sense right now because you can’t remember everythin’. But right now what’s more important is  _ him. _ ”

The room seems to come into more focus, including a figure sitting at her bedside. Or, more accurately, sleeping in a chair at her bedside, his large _ —blue— _ hand engulfing hers.

“Fitaetao.” She says his name in a rush as memories,  _ so _ many memories come tumbling towards her all at once. Some good, some bad, but in the end her soul still sings with each one. 

“We weren’t too sure about him at first,” Mikail says, in only the way her third-eldest brother can. “But that boy is crazy about you.”

Somehow even here (wherever  _ here _ is) Rhiona is still capable of blushing something fierce, and she can feel the heat creeping over her cheeks as Mikail comes to stand next to her.

“He saved me.” 

She can remember now, remember everything that happened in that awful place. All the tests and experiments. The endless crying and screaming. Remember the cold press of razor-sharp steel against her neck, then falling to the ground as she choked on her own blood. 

She can also remember all the late night conversations, the comfort she found in his presence. The way she just  _ knew _ how he felt. How she felt.

_ I love him.  _

_ He loves me. _

Suddenly a loud, screeching alarm pierces the room, sending Fitaetao flying out of his chair as several medical staff members come rushing in. Rhiona doesn’t know much in the way of medicine, but the look on Fitaetao’s face combined with the noise the monitors are making can’t be a good thing.

Neither is the sudden, sharp pain in her chest.

Nothing makes sense right now, especially as each of her brothers hug her before stepping through the door and back out onto the porch while orders get shouted about the room in frantic sounding Cheunh.

Rhiona shakes her head, letting out a frightened sob. “I’m scared.”

“Oh, my sweet baby girl.” It’s her daddy again, and he’s standing in the doorway. “I know, but it ain’t your time yet.”

The pain in her chest gets worse, and she turns around just in time to see one of the staff members doing chest compressions as another Chiss steps into the room to hold Fitaetao back. Rhiona recognizes it as the same woman who helped save her (and the same woman who took part in the raid on the  _ Devastator _ all those months ago). The woman holds Fitaetao’s hand as the staff member continues pressing down on Rhiona’s chest.

“Daddy!” Rhiona tries to move, tries to step forward or even reach out towards him but she can’t. Tears roll freely down her cheeks, and when she tries to call to him again all that comes out is a high pitched squeak.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby girl.” Her daddy smiles at her, a great big smile. “We’ll be together again. In time.” The door closes, cutting off her view of the front porch, replacing it with the sterile hallway of a medcenter. 

Behind her, the flurry of activity fades away too, the pain in her chest easing off as the alarms finally stop, the machines returning to a much more normal level of consistent beeping. Rhiona blinks once, and she’s in the bed, back in her own body. There’s darkness here, but there’s a lightness to it, a sense of safety as she’s vaguely aware of a large hand engulfing hers. 

No; not just a hand, an entire  _ body. _

Or rather  _ two _ bodies.

She can feel them on either side of her, each of them holding one of her hands. Once again there’s that familiar song in her soul, and finding comfort in it she lets the pull of the drugs take her deeper into slumber. 


	3. The Nurse, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vuistalia sees many things as a nurse.

_So now you're sleeping peaceful  
I lie awake and pray  
That you'll be strong tomorrow  
And will see another day_

_—Hold On,_ Sarah McLachlan

~~~

Vuistalia sees many things as a nurse.

She sees all the joy and sorrow. The highs and lows. Deaths, births. The hellos and goodbyes. The pain and tears and well fought recovery. She sees the moments nobody thought anyone sees. The hidden smiles. The doubt turned to victory. The shock that’s still possible after so many years.

That last part she sees in full force the day the injured members of the Wampa Claw strike team come to their facility. Along with them come the victims of that awful research facility, and while she never did ask exactly what took place within its walls she doesn’t need to; it’s written in the eyes (that are awake, at least) and in the bruised flesh of the test subjects, Chiss and human (and one non-human) alike. 

The final patient to come flying through the doors is a scene of which she has not witnessed since the days of the Uprisings. A Chiss medic straddles the patient on the gurney while performing chest compressions as another kneels at the head, tightly holding a mask to the human’s face while slowly squeezing a bag to inflate and oxygenate its lungs. And yet a third kneels on the other side, putting pressure on a wound on the human’s neck. 

There is blood, everywhere. All over the gurney, all over the human, all over the medics. And all over the two Chiss that follow closely behind; one, a tall female dressed in the uniform of a CEDF officer, the other a male dressed in medical scrubs. The male nearly gets into a physical altercation with one of the staff members when they try to direct them to a waiting room, but after a (rather terse) conversation, they’re allowed into the trauma bay (under strict orders to not interfere).

They learn three vital things in that first minute; one, that the patient is in fact a full grown adult by human standards and not a child, two, that her throat was slit with a surgical scalpel, and three, that they’ve been performing chest compressions for nearly 20 minutes. 

The latter two are devastating news, possibly life ending, but the former spurs Vuistalia into action. She rushes to the edge of the trauma bay, pulling the cart made up just for Navigators to the middle of the chaos. The cart full of equipment sized for Chiss _children,_ yes, but in the case of this tiny human it is equipment that is going to save her life. The doctor (who they later learn is a Chaf) even knows her exact weight and height, making their jobs all the easier as they get down to the business of stabilizing their patient.

In the end, they code her for exactly 85 minutes. Which, in all fairness, is probably 40 (or even 50) minutes more than they normally would have (or _should_ have) on someone so obviously far gone. There’s a (serious) concern of organ and brain damage, and even after finally getting her stabilized it’s not a question of when she’ll wake up but _if._

But she’s alive, for now, even if only for the various machines and medications and the very ancestors themselves making it so. She’s still too unstable for surgery, and certainly not stable enough for a dip in the koltaisis tank.

The Chaf doctor and the Mitth daughter (the daughter of the Matriarch and Patriarch, no less) are ushered out and convinced to change into clean clothes and get something to eat; but only in turns as they refuse to leave the tiny human’s side. While they’re doing this, Vuisitalia changes out the blood and various medications currently keeping the human alive. She doesn’t immediately recognize the tiny human as the same one that her brother had grown so attached to. Not until the Chaf calls her ‘Nala’ late (so late) that first night as he returns from finding something clean to wear.

Vuistalia’s fingers almost fumble at hearing that name, but it’s then that she leans in and takes just a slightly closer look, and through the bruises and the dried blood that they’re still too uncertain to clean off and all the wires and tubes and the implant leads from the facility they don’t dare remove yet until she’s more stable that she can see it; this is the tiny human Vuiskelisa had spoken of all those times. The one he’d send holos of (including a video one time of her reading a Chiss children’s book in broken but mostly comprehensible Chenuh). This is the human he had given his life to try to protect. 

Now she is here.

Now she is Vuistalia’s responsibility.

_Nala._

In old Rentor dialect it means ‘fierce one’; given everything she heard from her brother and everything she’s witnessed over the past 12 hours, it’s fitting. Certainly more fitting than whatever convoluted name the Mitth will wind up forcing on her once the adoption is finalized, if the rumors are true. When Vuistalia gets home that night (morning, day, whatever...) she includes Nala in her prayers to the ancestors.

~~~

They code her again two days later, but this time for only (a blessed) 20 minutes. 

Vuistalia isn’t there when it happens, but when she returns the next day it’s to the sight of the Chaf doctor and the Mitth blood daughter curled up on either side of Nala, each of them holding one of the tiny human’s hands in theirs. The sight warms her very soul, though she can tell it slightly disturbs the other nurse who comes to a grinding halt next to her.

“Should we...?”

“No.” Vuistalia shakes her head. “Look at her vitals.”

The nurse does, letting out a slight gasp of astonishment. “That’s...”

“The most stable they’ve been since she arrived, yes.”

Vuistalia informs the doctors on Nala’s case, who inform the medical center’s director, who all agree that so long as Nala’s vitals remain stable the Chaf and the Mitth can take up residence in the human’s bed whenever they wish.

And they do.

On Day 4 Nala is stable enough to take into surgery to repair the damage to her neck and vocal cords. They’re confident that she’ll speak again, when she wakes up.

 _When_ she wakes up.

It’s the language that they must start using now.

They also remove the leads implanted into her skull, and repair any other minor damage requiring surgical repair.

It’s in the process of all of this that they make a rather unsettling discovery about their patient’s condition.

“You are absolutely certain?” The Chaf doctor asks, a murderous look (though clearly not directed at Vuistalia) in his eyes.

“Yes. Not very far along, but she is pregnant.”

“We’ll have to let her make the decision when she wakes up.” The Chaf takes the hand of the Mitth blood daughter in his while they watch her floating in the koltaisis tank.

“Yes, when she wakes up we can discuss her options.”

When she wakes up.

~~~

Nala’s room is a hive of activity, easily the busiest one on the ward in terms of visitors. 

There are the two main standbys, the Chaf doctor and the Mitth blood daughter of course, neither leaving her side (unless to change or eat, and only in turns). Then there is the human Jedi, another victim of that horrid place. He must walk by Nala’s room at least a dozen times before Vuistalia finally ushers him in that first day, a sheepish look on his face when he asks the Chaf doctor in broken Cheunh if he can see her. For a moment there is silence, and the human Jedi turns to leave, then the Chaf is ushering him inside and Vuistalia’s heart breaks to see him so gently and almost reverently pick up one of Nala’s too small and too pale hands. The human Jedi closes his eyes, and though his lips don’t move Vuistalia assumes he must be praying.

Either that, or it’s some sort of Jedi thing.

The human Jedi visits almost every day, even after being discharged. If anything, it gives the Chaf doctor and Mitth blood daughter a chance to catch a (much needed) break.

A rather unexpected visitor is the human grand admiral.

Vuistalia knew that he was here, of course, because his daughter is here. And then she remembers her brother mentioning that the admiral had worked on Nala’s case at the prison, so it explained the connection. But sparing time away from his own daughter shows a much deeper connection than she imagined, and she watches on in silence on Day 5 as the human solemnly enters Nala’s room, acknowledging the Chaf doctor and Mitth blood daughter with polite nods before he sits at Nala’s bedside and takes one of her hands in his.

“The last time I saw her like this it was at the hands of her own people. A cruel prank gone horribly wrong.” His words falter as he stares down at her hand in his.

Vuistalia remembers that, remembers the frantic call from her brother, the news about how Nala’s fellow inmates had locked her in a walk-in freezer hitting her hard (though obviously not nearly as hard as her brother). She had survived severe hypothermia and four days in a coma. Surely she could survive this.

Are those the same thoughts running through the head of the human grand admiral?

Again, Vuisitalia includes Nala in her prayers to the ancestors that night.

And again, Nala doesn’t wake up.


	4. The Coversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhiona is awake, but doesn't know where she is. When rushing out of her room she runs into a familiar face.

_I hear your heart beating in your chest_   
_The world slows till there's nothing left_

_—June,_ Florence + The Machine

~~~

It is late, even by Chiss standards, when Thrawn makes his way through the empty corridors of the medcenter. He is nearly back to Eli’s _(their)_ daughter’s room when he runs into(or rather, she runs into him)...

...a human version of Un’hee, perhaps a few years after he first met her (or Che’ri).

But this is no Chiss Navigator; this is a fully grown (if not short) human. One who should clearly not be out of bed.

_Her skin is pale, her pulse elevated. There is fresh blood on her hand where an intravenous line was removed in haste. Her eyes dance about, her muscles tense, as though seeking a means of escape._

He places a steadying hand on her arm, feeling his heart ache when she flinches and tries to break free.

“I mean you no harm.” He laces his words—in Basic—with as much calm as possible, and he can see the relief written across her face at his language choice. Relief followed closely by a mix of confusion and the slightest amount of awe; a reaction that he would only expect from someone who would have studied his image in a history text at an Imperial Academy. Which would make her one of the missing (now recovered) Imperial prisoners, which means...

“You should not be out of bed.”

It is a simple enough statement, but one that has a profound effect on the poor thing. Her eyes go wide with sheer panic as she shakes her head almost violently. No doubt there is some sort of severe trauma associated with being in a room or a bed (or perhaps both) after what she endured at the facility.

And as if on cue, Thrawn glances up to spot two nurses headed their way, obviously alerted to her absence while doing rounds. He waves them off with his free hand before returning his attention to her.

“Then let us at least sit. Is that alright?”

He watches her consider the offer a moment before nodding, then he guides her to a set of chairs on the other side of the corridor.

“I am Thrawn, though I suspect you already knew that.” He pauses, allowing her another nod. “What is your name?”

There’s a considerable moment of hesitation before she opens her mouth, but all that comes out is a strangled squeak. 

_Her hands fly to her throat, her pulse rising even more. Her breathing is rapid, bordering on hyperventilating. She tries to speak again with the same results. There are no visible marks on her neck, though any would have been healed by now. Perhaps her vocal cords were damaged but are still in the process of healing._

Once again he feels his heart ache, and without thinking he reaches up to take her hands in his.

“I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?”

She nods, and through the tears now streaming down her face she breathes with him until he’s certain that she’s not going to pass out. A moment later, he releases her hands to pull out his new notebook and flips to the first page before handing it to her. Her hand shakes as she takes the offered stylus and scribbles out her name, but he’s still able to decipher it.

“A pleasure to meet you, Rhiona Lascelles.” He smiles at her, and she returns one of her own, albeit a small one.

Thrawn watches her scribble out her first question; _‘Where are we?’_

“We are in a medical center on a small moon located near Sposia.”

Rhiona makes an exasperated look at that, scribbling out something else. _'_ _Sposia=Prison??’_

“Yes, Sposia is where the prison is located.” He pauses, not sure if divulging the next piece of information will do more harm than good, but supposes that she’ll inevitably find out either way. “And where the research facility is located.”

She blinks a few times at that before finally snorting. Thrawn can only imagine the things she wishes to write but somehow refrains from doing so. Instead, it’s another question. _‘How long?’_

“You were rescued from the facility 10 standard days ago.” 

Rhiona’s eyes go wide at that; Thrawn knows it must be quite a shock, and he gives her hand a comforting squeeze. There’s a stretch of comfortable silence before she writes out her next question. _‘Why are you here?’_

“I am here because Eli’s—our daughter was also at the facility.” Thrawn glances down to catch her scribbling out an _‘I'm sorry’_ , followed in rapid succession by ‘ _You and Eli??’_ which is accompanied by a (small) sly grin.

Though he doesn’t quite return a grin of his own, he still nods in concession. Whatever Rhiona is about to write out next is cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps coming to a rapid halt as they find their intended target.

“Nala.”

Rhiona’s head snaps up at that voice, tears instantly filling her eyes. Thrawn recognizes the owner of the voice as a Chaf; a doctor, he believes. The Chaf is standing in front of them in two quick strides, and without skipping a beat he (easily) lifts Rhiona (Nala?) up into his arms. And then Thrawn’s heart is reacting in an entirely different manner than before.

_Their pulses are both rapid, their skin slightly flushed as they embrace as though their lives depend upon it. It is love that they share; a deep-seated, soul-encompassing love._

After no small amount of time (though still an understandable amount of time for a reunion between two such people), the Chaf lifts up his head from Rhiona’s shoulder and greets Thrawn with a respectful nod. “Syndic Mitth’raw’nuru.”

“Doctor Chaf'itaeta'osdec.” Thrawn returns the nod, the name coming to him at the very last moment. He recalls it from one of the Wampa Claw briefings; Chaf'itaeta'osdec had been an agent on the inside, a first hand witness to the atrocities.

How many of those atrocities was he forced to enact by his own hand?

It is no wonder that there is already such a bond formed between Rhiona and Chaf'itaeta'osdec; they share so many traumas. 

But is shared trauma any sort of basis for a lasting relationship?

Thrawn almost snorts at himself.

As if _he_ is one to be dishing out relationship advice.

The best (and all) he can (and should) do is base his opinion on what he observes; and what he observes is a man who was clearly distraught at returning to an empty room and is now relieved to find its occupant. He observes the way they react to each other, the love that they clearly hold.

And that is enough.

Chaf'itaeta'osdec goes to turn, Rhiona still in his arms, but not before she stops him and reaches out to Thrawn. She squeezes his hand, then holds out the notebook and stylus.

Thrawn considers a moment, then shakes his head with a soft smile. “No, you keep it.”

Rhiona offers a much more genuine smile this time before mouthing ‘thank you’. Thrawn watches Chaf'itaeta'osdec carry her down the corridor before he returns to his family’s room, the smile still on his face.


	5. The Nurse, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Nala is awake, important conversations need to be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Abortion
> 
> I head canon Bakura as being pretttttty damn conservative, which explains Rhiona's lack of knowledge about her options, etc.

_Oh the river, oh the river, it's running free_   
_And oh the joy, oh the joy it brings to me_   
_But I know it'll have to drown me_   
_Before it can breathe easy_

_—Heartlines,_ Florence + The Machine

~~~

For each of the 10 days that Nala remains in her coma, there are but a handful of moments where she is truly alone in her room. The moments where no nurse or doctor or technician is rounding, where both the Mitth daughter and the Chaf doctor have been convinced to leave Nala’s side for more than five minutes at a time.

So when Nala finally wakes up, when she  _ truly _ wakes up (and not the moment on Day 7 when she had struck out against Vuistalia while she was cleaning her face, or the moment on Day 8 when they extubated her and her eyes opened) of  _ course _ it happens during one of those moments when her room is empty.

Vuistalia can only imagine the panic that must greet Nala when she first wakes up. The fear that must course through her veins at finding herself—again—in an unfamiliar place, hooked up to various machines and medication lines. It is no wonder that Nala’s first instinct is to flee, and nothing short of the will of the ancestors that she doesn’t immediately fall to the ground. That she makes it as far as the corridor to even encounter the Mitth Syndic is beyond all medical explanation, and despite being waved off by him, Vuistalia lingers at a reasonable (yet respectful) distance.

She doesn’t catch much of their exchange, but she does catch the reunion between Nala and the Chaf doctor.

To call it overwhelming would be a disservice to the word.

It is, without fail, utterly and completely a moment that Vuistalia will never forget.

Unfortunately, what comes next is equally unforgettable, but for entirely different reasons.

The change in Nala’s composure when they approach her room is visceral; her eyes go wide as she shakes her head, and she makes tiny, squeaking sounds of pleading. She starts struggling against the Chaf doctor too, which Vuistalia can see pains him dearly. He tries to soothe her, with words in Cheunh and what she assumes must be Lesser Basic, but none seem to have an effect.

But the Chaf doctor had made one thing very clear from the start; at no point were they to use restraints on Nala under any circumstances.

Vuistalia finds herself debating this order, can see the other nurses doing the same. They need to get Nala back into bed, get her hooked back up to the monitors. But more importantly they need to get her hooked back up to the various medications that were keeping her stable.

As if sensing the impending direction of things, the Mitth daughter climbs onto the bed, holding her arms and legs open. It only takes a moment for the Chaf doctor to catch on, who hands a kicking and screaming Nala down to her. The Mitth daughter wraps her arms and legs around Nala, effectively restraining her  _ without _ the use of actual restraints.

And though it’s not  _ entirely _ effective in settling Nala (she has to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at one point; her brother certainly had taught Nala some of the more  _ creative _ insults, hadn’t he?) they are still able to get her hooked back up to everything and get the IV lines started again.

Nala is asleep within minutes, no doubt the exertion of her little journey and the struggling doing her in. The Mitth daughter and the Chaf doctor get settled in on either side of her, and Vuistalia watches on as the monitors show the steady progression of Nala’s vitals leveling out.

~~~

Day 11 is a day of (seemingly never ending) tests and evaluations. The news is...mixed. While they are confident she will regain full use of her voice within the next week or so, there is some minor damage to her organs. It means a longer stay, more machines in her rooms and more medications in her veins (along with more dips in the tank).

It is also a day of conversations.

Difficult conversations made all the more difficult by the fact that the patient has only a basic grasp of Cheunh and can’t even  _ speak _ at the moment. Nala can at least write her questions down in the notebook, but must do so in Lesser Basic, which the Chaf doctor must then translate. 

“We understand that this did not occur at your will. That is why we support whatever choice you make.” Vuistalia is slow to speak, making sure Nala can grasp the words. 

The Mitth daughter gives Nala’s hand a gentle squeeze of support. “And the Mitth will support your choice as well.”

“As do I.” The Chaf doctor squeezes Nala’s other hand, only letting go when she reaches for the notepad and stylus. He frowns for a moment at whatever she writes.

“She...isn’t certain as to what options she has.”

Vuistalia frowns too. Is this common among all Humans? Or perhaps only where Nala is from?

“You can choose to carry the pregnancy to term and keep the baby, or put it up for adoption. Or you can choose to terminate the pregnancy. Normally this early in a pregnancy it would be done with a medication, but with your current condition we would do it with a simple surgical procedure that takes less than fifteen minutes.”

Nala’s brows furrow in concentration as she no doubt tries to translate that all, her eyes turning to the Chaf for help. There’s a long stretch of silence and Vuistalia can almost feel the weight of the decision taking over the entire room; for a moment she wishes the director of that horrible place survived, if only so she could have witnessed her execution.

Finally, Nala writes out another question, this one causing the Chaf doctor to, well, Vuistalia isn’t quite sure how to describe the reaction. It is a mixture of pain, sorrow, and joy all rolled into one.

“She wants to know if she will still be able to have children.”

Vuistalia’s heart breaks a little at that, and she finds herself reaching down to be the next one to squeeze Nala’s hand.

“Yes, you will still be able to have children.”

Nala’s brows furrow once more, and after a much (much) longer stretch of silence she writes down her decision.

The Chaf doctor reads it, then nods and presses a kiss to Nala’s forehead. “She will have the procedure.”

Vuistalia nods and goes to put in the orders, catching the Mitth daughter wiping away a few stray tears from Nala’s face.

~~~

On Day 12, Nala officially becomes a merit-adoptive of the Mitth family.

It is a joyous occasion, one she dearly wishes her brother could be here to see.

The joy, however, is short lived because on Day 14 the Mitth daughter must return to duty.

That is a somber occasion, one filled with tears (from all three of them, but the most from Nala) and uncertainty. An uncertainty that seems to linger in the days that follow, everything coming to a head on Day 17.

Vuisitalia isn’t sure what finally does it; perhaps Nala finally sees the resemblance. Perhaps Nala’s mind has finally healed enough to remember Vuiskelisa mentioning he had a sister. Either way, there’s no delaying the inevitable any longer, so the day that Nala types out the question (‘Do you have a family?’) on her questis (a gift from the Mitth daughter), Vuistalia knows she can’t lie. The typed out conversation continues until the smile on Nala’s face is so wide that Vuistalia feels it reflected on her own face.

That is until the dreaded _‘Can he come see me?’_ pops up.

“Nala...” The Chaf doctor, who had been assisting with translations, takes the questis, his face crestfallen as he looks at her. 

Nala’s eyes are wide as she shakes her head, then she holds out a shaking (yet furious) hand for the questis. Her fingers go flying as she types (no doubt in Lesser Basic) and when she hands it to the Chaf doctor he looks as though he’s just been punched in the gut. He speaks his reply, also in Lesser Basic, and there are already tears streaming down Nala’s face.

“Nala.” He repeats her name, more pleading this time, but she’s already got her face turned away from him.

The Chaf doctor lets out the sigh of a man defeated, then gestures out to the corridor with his head. Vuistalia assures Nala that she’ll be right back, then joins the Chaf doctor.

“Late one night, perhaps nine weeks into her captivity, Nala finally asked me how it was that she had come to the facility.” He’s pacing slightly, wringing his hands. “One of the...procedures used on her affected her memories. I could not be certain how much she remembered, nor could I risk my cover. So I told her what I felt to be true; that she has a gift that needs to be studied. And I...” He sighs once more, stopping in his pacing to stare through the window at the tiny form of Nala as he runs a hand through his hair.

Vuistalia places a comforting hand on his back. “You were only doing what you thought was best at the moment.” She holds up a hand before he can cut her off. “I can see your love for her. She can see it, too. That is all that matters.”

The Chaf doctor lets out a breath before nodding resolutely.

“Now, go get some rest that is not in a chair or alongside her in a medcenter bed. I will watch over her for a while.” Vuistalia offers him a soft smile, which he returns (albeit briefly) as he leaves.

When she walks back into the room, poor Nala is a sobbing mess. She easily fits onto the bed next to her, taking the small thing of a human into her arms as she murmurs words of comfort. It isn’t long until Nala is asleep, and she gently gets her tucked into bed before leaving for the night.

Vuistalia returns the next day to news that Nala had to be coded overnight. It’s certainly not good news by any means, not this far into her recovery, and it has everyone at the medcenter perplexed. There’s no logical explanation, nothing on any of the emergency scans or labs, no new changes...

Except the departure of a certain Chaf doctor yesterday evening.

Throughout this whole ordeal, he has been the one constant (save for the Mitth blood daughter, who had been here as much as duty allows her to be) in the equation. 

He’s back now, of course, someone having the foresight to contact him when her condition had so rapidly declined. And her vitals, as predicted, are stable again.

Vuistalia can’t be certain of the conversation they have via questis, suffice to say that it’s enough to keep him from being kicked out again. 

On Day 21, they are able to wean her off of all but one of her medications. It is a big step, one that gets Nala all the closer to discharge. Which means they need to start discussing her discharge plans, which means it’s time for another difficult conversation.

Vuistalia doesn’t participate in this one, thinking it best to leave it to Nala and the Chaf doctor. In the end it’s decided that she’ll live with him at the Chaf Estate on Sarvchi (much to the amusement of the Chaf, she’s certain). There’s still no decision made as to what she’ll do, but Vuistalia is confident that the Mitth (and no doubt the Chaf) will help when Nala is ready.

Finally, on Day 28, Nala is discharged from the medical center. 

It is a big deal for everyone there; Nala was the most critical of all the victims from the facility. And of the 21 human prisoners who had been taken by the facility, Nala is one of only 10 to survive.

Needless to say, everyone who is available to be there is lined up along the corridor as the Chaf doctor pushes Nala’s hoverchair out of her room and out of the facility. Vuistalia stays at his side as they approach the shuttle, taking note of the presence of the Chaf Special Security forces; she doesn’t blame their caution, nor can she blame Nala for the nervous look on her face. But Nala has her Chaf doctor, and, when duty allows, she will also have her Mitth daughter. Vuistalia gives Nala a (gentle) hug before she and the Chaf doctor board the shuttle.

Vuistalia sees many things as a nurse, but with Nala and the Chaf doctor (and the Mitth daughter) what she sees more than anything is hope.


	6. The Adoption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn and Rhiona meet again.

_The way is long but you can make it easy on me_

_—The Mother We Share,_ CHVRCHES

~~~

A day after his late night encounter with Rhiona, Thrawn once again finds himself wandering the empty corridors of the medcenter, half expecting another run-in with the small human. Instead, he finds himself coming to a halt outside of her room, his footsteps stopped by the (rather) unexpected view offered by the observation window.

Rhiona lays in bed, still as pale as ever, connected to various monitors and multiple lines of medications; he had heard that her recovery had taken a setback this week (actually, Eli had asked and was denied the information, so Thrawn, as a Syndic of the family set to adopt Rhiona had inquired and had been given a full report; something about organ damage due to a lack of oxygen during her initial arrival). That sight is expected. What isn’t, however, is the presence of two Chiss in the bed with her, forming a nest of sorts around Rhiona. One is the Chaf doctor, the other...is his niece. 

Again, Thrawn is in no position to be dishing out relationship advice, but he cannot be certain what is more shocking; the idea of his niece with a human, or the idea of his niece with a  _ Chaf. _

Both, perhaps.

But, as he watches them, it is difficult to deny how peaceful they all seem. How  _ right _ it feels to see the three of them curled up together like that. A part of his heart aches for them, knowing how rare these moments will be with Thoolaisa’s military career. And for that alone he will refrain from making any comment on his niece’s choice in relationships.

“We can’t explain it, but her vitals are always more stable whenever there’s someone in the bed with her.” The nurse is almost silent in her approach as she comes to a stop at Thrawn’s side. “Especially when it’s the two of them.”

Interesting.

Thrawn takes a closer look at the monitors, and, sure enough, Rhiona’s vitals do seem more stable than the initial ones reported upon her arrival.

“You can go in, if you’d like.” The nurse, a Kivu by his guess (then again, 99% of the staff here are Kivu) offers him a soft smile.

He shakes his head. “They should have this time together. I can return later.” Thrawn spares the three of them one last look before turning and offering the nurse a polite nod. Then he’s back on his way to his family’s room, struck with the sudden urge to feel Eli in his arms.

~~~

True to his word, Thrawn does return later, though not until the day after his late night wanderings.

It’s nearing midday when he approaches Rhiona’s room, and he’s (pleasantly) surprised to see that his niece is still here. Thoolaisa sits up in the bed with Rhiona slumbering at her side, a questis in hand as she, he assumes, reads through a never ending list of reports.

He clears his throat as he enters the room, his heart warming to see the look of surprise tinged with relief on his niece's face when she glances up.

“Uncle.”

Thrawn leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Thoolaisa’s head; it is not his custom greeting, but it has been a trying week (month...year...). Thoolaisa smiles, then her eyes go slightly wide as she watches Thrawn gently brush a piece of hair out of Rhiona’s face.

“You two have met?”

He nods. “Yes, last week, during a late night stroll. She is...” He trails off, uncertain of the correct word to describe her. If there even is a single word possible of doing so.

There’s a wistful grin on Thoolaisa’s face. “Yes, she tends to have that effect on people.” A pause, then, “Why are you here? Is everything alright with Un’hee?” A small amount of panic tinges her question.

Thrawn is quick to soothe her. “Yes, Un’hee is fine. In fact, she is being discharged tomorrow.”

“That is wonderful news. But it still does not answer my question.” One of his niece’s brows quirks slightly. “Not that I’m complaining about the visit, but you’ve piqued my curiosity now.”

Definitely her parent’s child, Thoolaisa.

“Your mother forwarded me the rest of her adoption paperwork, though it seems we can discuss that later when she is awake.” Thrawn pauses a beat. “Where is your Chaf doctor?”

_ Her pulse spikes, and there is a slight flush that spreads to her cheeks. She rolls her eyes at the ‘your’ aspect, but does not deny it. _

“I sent him off to eat.” To emphasize her point, Thoolaisa’s stomach gives a quiet rumble. But sensing the oncoming conversation, she ignores it and acts on the early defensive. “I know that he is a Chaf, and that we had a history in college, but—”

Thrawn holds up a hand, cutting her off. “But as your uncle, it is my prerogative to give you grief about your relationships, Chaf or not.” He offers what he hopes is a comforting smile. “Now go, join him. I will stay with her.”

“But...” Thoolaisa glances down at Rhiona, obviously hesitant to leave. “She does better when one or both of us is in bed with her and—”

“Yes, one of the nurses explained as such to me the other night.” Thrawn says as he gestures, almost impatiently, for Thoolaisa to get out of the bed. “You forget that I comforted my fair share of Navigators before my exile.”

Thoolaisa opens her mouth to further debate the point, then quickly shuts it, conceding his point. She, still reluctantly, gets out of the bed (but not before pressing a kiss to Rhiona’s forehead) and watches as Thrawn takes her place.

Rhiona really is no larger than an older Navigator, perhaps one around the age of 12, and as he gets settled in next to her he’s once again reminded of Un’hee. And of Che’ri. And once again his heart aches for Rhiona, for the atrocities that took place at the research facility. For the life she now must lead among the Chiss, and away from her own people.

“Go.” He pulls himself back to the present in order to usher his niece out of the room. “We will be fine.”

His niece gives them one last look before leaving. Once alone, Thrawn pulls out his questis and takes up one of Rhiona’s hands in his free hand.

It does not take long for Rhiona to wake up; and when she does it is with a pained whimper and a loud gasp, as though awaking from a horrible nightmare.

_ Her eyes blink rapidly as though unseeing, her pulse elevated, her breathing ragged. _

“Rhiona.” Thrawn uses his Command Voice, one that is low and even and calm. It has worked on soldiers and Navigators alike; hopefully it will work on her. “Rhiona, you are safe.”

She blinks several more times before finally looking over to him. “Thrawn?” His name is croaked out and barely above a whisper.

He suspects she is not supposed to be speaking yet, as evidenced by the notebook on the table next to the bed. When he hands it to her his suspicions are further confirmed when she rolls her eyes, and he has to suppress a chuckle.

_ ‘Where are they?’ _

“They are both eating.”

_ ‘Why are you here?’ _

“I have the paperwork to finalize your merit-adoption into the Mitth family.”

There’s a slight frown on her face as her brows furrow. It is...not the reaction he had expected for such news.

_ ‘Adoption???’ _

Ah. He should have foreseen this; included in the update he requested from the medcenter on Rhiona’s condition was one vital piece of information from her...experiences at the research facility, and that was the fact that she had suffered memory loss. And apparently the news of her adoption was one of those memories.

“Yes. The Mitth family wishes to make you a merit-adoptive member. The paperwork had been started when you were being released from the prison. Unfortunately...” he trails off, watching her brows furrow even further as her face takes on a deep look of concentration. He can almost hear the gears turning in her mind. Then there’s a flash of...something in her eyes, a quiet gasp, and then tears.

“You remember now?”

Rhiona nods, sniffles, and wipes at her tears with the back of her hand. 

_ ‘The Mitth still want me?’ _

Oh, how his heart breaks at reading that. He takes both of her hands in his, making sure to look her directly in the eyes. “Yes, we do.”

“But I’m broken.” She croaks out around a sob.

Thrawn can help it; he pulls her into his arms, holding onto her tightly as she shakes through her tears. He strokes her hair and whispers comforting words in Cheunh, and when the worst of the sobs have finally seemed to stop he pulls back, once again looking directly in her eyes.

“You are not broken.” When she goes to shake her head he stops her by wiping away the remaining tears. “You are not. You are gifted with what the Chiss call the Sights; what others may call the Force. It is a gift more precious than words. Do you understand?”

She nods, not entirely convincingly, then reaches for the notepad and stylus once more. 

_ ‘Will I get a new name?’  _ There’s the slightest of frowns on her face, though he takes it as a good sign that she’s remembering more details from the initial adoption conversation.

“Yes, it is part of the adoption process. Your new name will be Mitth’ion’ala. How does that sound?” 

_ ‘Complicated’ _

Thrawn lets out a chuckle at that. “You will get used to it.” He offers her a smile, which she (mostly) returns. “Are you ready to finalize the adoption now?”

This time the hesitation is much more palpable. But can he really blame her? This is a very big step, and it’s not lost on him that it’s happening in a hospital bed. Finally she nods, and Thrawn pulls up the paperwork on his questis, signing in all the relevant places before handing it over to her to sign.

“Welcome to the family, Mitth’ion’ala.” With that said, she launches herself (slowly, as she’s still recovering) at him into a hug.

And of course, that’s when Thoolaisa and the Chaf doctor return.

Thrawn disentangles himself from the hug and slides out of the bed, then with a formal nod to each of them he indicates Thiona. “May I introduce the newest merit-adoptive of the Mitth family, Mitth’ion’ala.”

Thiona (though he has a strong suspicion that most will still call her Nala) grins up at Thoolaisa and the Chaf, her cheeks flushing as one then the other lean in to kiss her. Thrawn can’t be certain if the reaction is due to her not being used to such signs of affection in general, or not being used to such signs of affection with an audience (he suspects it is the latter), so he is careful to have a neutral expression on his face when she glances over to him after words of congratulations are offered.

_ ‘What now?’ _

“Now, you recover.” He takes the notebook and stylus and sets it back on the table, watching as his niece and the Chaf doctor return to their places in the bed with Nala. “The rest of the details can be worked out later.”

_ It is entirely natural, how they take a place on either side of her. Nala’s heart rate steadies, her breathing more even and less strained. She is at peace, as though her very soul is at ease with the two of them surrounding her. _

Nala lets out a huff, to which the Chaf responds with a slight chuckle. “Coming from a Syndic of your own family, that’s tantamount to an order, Nala.”

Thrawn can tell the poor thing wants to (so badly) roll her eyes, but somehow finds the self control to resist. He himself then must find the power to resist the urge to chuckle, which he covers up by offering a very solemn nod, to which he spots his niece (badly) covering up her own chuckle by faking a yawn.

The proper farewells are exchanged, with Nala giving his hand a squeeze in place of her own, and as he returns to his family’s room it’s as though a piece of his own soul has been lightened.

  
  
  
  



	7. The Homecoming and the Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhiona arrives at Sarvchi.

_What good is livin' a life you've been given_   
_If all you do is stand in one place_

_—Ends of the Earth,_ Lord Huron

~~~

If there’s any word to describe Rhiona in the first few days (weeks) after her release from the medical center, it’s hesitant.

She’s hesitant to board the shuttle (but can you really blame her given what happened the last time she got on a shuttle?), and refuses to settle even with the presence of the Chaf Special Security forces. No matter what Fitaetao does or says, nothing works, and she winds up staying (forcing herself to stay) awake the entire trip to Sarvchi. By the time they land she’s a ball of nervous energy, but she’s also hesitant to leave the shuttle because this truly marks the start of her new life.

But Fitaetao isn’t giving her much time to think; he simply offers his arm, which she gladly takes, practically clinging onto him as they exit the shuttle. The spaceport is a bustling hive of activity, conversations in rapid (and  _ highly _ cultured) Cheunh flowing around her as people go about their business. For someone who just spent the better part of a year in (forced) isolation, it’s, well, it’s incredibly overwhelming. Especially for someone still coming to terms with their  _ special gifts _ , and she has to suck in a breath as she’s hit with a sudden influx of different emotions, none of which are hers.

Before this, before the facility, she would have ignored it or maybe written it off as a mood swing. Maybe if it had gotten bad enough she would have hit something (or somebody). But now? Now it made more sense...and yet, it didn’t.

At least one of Fitaetao’s moms was a former Navigator (someone who had the same  _ gift  _ as her, as he had explained) and could try to help her.

_ One _ of his moms...that’s something else she’s still trying to wrap her head around, how it had just been so normal for him when he’d told her during one of their late night conversations in the medical center.  _ Two moms. _ It was practically unheard of on Bakura, and in the rare cases where it did happen, it was  _ never _ spoken of. Rhiona had explained as such, especially the fact that even her own momma had never known (and could  _ never _ know) that Rhiona liked men and women. Or especially how her momma could never know that she had ended a pregnancy. Fitaetao had looked really sad about that, to which Rhiona could only shrug and say that was just the way it was.

She gives her head a little shake to bring herself back to the present, hyper aware of all the eyes on them as they make their way through the spaceport. It goes beyond the fact that she’s a human, she knows. No doubt by now her image has made the rounds through the news as one of the ‘Surviving Ten’ (and, so, okay, she scanned the Chiss version of the holonet on the trip here, and did they really have to use her intake photo from the prison?) and if she  _ listens _ hard enough she can almost hear their conversations.

Or is it their thoughts?

Now  _ that’s _ a terrifying thing to consider, and once again she has to shake her head to pull herself back to the present, and just in time to spot someone headed their way. A very sophisticated, important looking someone. Rhiona stiffens slightly, stepping in closer (and slightly behind) to Fitaetao as that someone approaches. It’s obviously someone he knows, because the Chaf Special Security forces aren’t reacting, but it still doesn’t put her completely at ease. 

“Uncle.” Fitaetao greets him with a slightly formal bow that’s cut off by the man pulling him into a hug. He stiffens at first, clearly not expecting such a greeting, then he relaxes into it, practically collapsing against his uncle. Rhiona can sense the weariness coming off of him in waves, and she has to take a small step back to keep from falling over.

But the uncle part solves the mystery, at least. This would be Chaf'orm'bintrano, or Formbi, the Aristocra (which from what she remembers is a fancy sort of politician). Once Formbi has let go of Fitaetao, she resumes her place at Fitaetao’s side, her arm looped through his (still practically clinging onto him).

“Where is your husband?”

“He’s back at the estate, helping your mothers prepare for the memorial service.”

Ah, yes...the memorial service for Fitaetao’s  _ sister. _ That had also been one of their late night conversations, how his sister Feesa had been the one to start putting everything together about the human prisoners disappearing. How she’d been a part of the strike team. How she’d died trying to free people. There’d already been a more formal service for her on Csilla; now the family was gathering for a more personal service, and there’s no small amount of guilt that Rhiona feels to be the one that caused the delay in the first place (no matter how many times Fitaetao insists she feel no such thing).

Rhiona blinks when she realizes Formbi’s attention has now turned to her.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Nala.” Not only is he using her less formal name, he’s also speaking in (very high cultured) Basic, which she knows is a great concession on his part, and he’s just offered a  _ very _ human greeting. It reminds her that 1) he knows Basic because he’s  _ married _ to Ronan and 2) that she was  _ horrible _ to Ronan at first, which makes her have to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. When the moment passes, she spares a quick glance up at Fitaetao before glancing back to Formbi and offering him (what she hopes) is a polite smile.

She’s hesitant to speak, too. “It’s nice to finally meet you as well.” Her voice is still weak and rough, but she at least no longer winces at the sound of it (despite  _ hating _ it).

Rhiona catches the ghost of a frown crossing Formbi’s face before he quickly hides it, as though he had expected a different reaction, but then he’s guiding them towards an awaiting speeder. A very  _ fancy _ looking speeder, the type that only the really well-to-do families on Bakura had.

Then she reminds herself that the Chaf are  _ exactly _ that type of family, and that this is her life now.

Still, she can’t help but feel a little out of place as Fitaetao helps her slide onto the (real) leather seat, especially in clothes and shoes that aren’t her own. Fitaetao has said he’ll take her shopping for her own things in a few days, which is...well, normally she’d be excited about it, but there’s a whole complicated mess of emotions involved, so she doesn’t exactly know how she feels about it right now.

Hesitant would be about right.

At any rate, she’s finding it difficult to follow the conversation Formbi and Fitaetao have fallen into, her eyes heavy. She must nod off at some point, because Fitaetao is telling her to lean against him and rest, and then...

...and then she’s waking up with a loud gasp, her chest seized in the grip of panic, her eyes wide as she tries to orient herself.

“Breathe, Nala.” Fitaetao says in soothing Cheunh, his hand squeezing hers as his other rubs her back.

She sucks in a few ragged gasps, blinking rapidly as her surroundings become clear.

Right. Speeder. Sarvchi. Uncle Formbi.

The latter is looking on with concern that doesn’t seem to fade much when she offers him a nervous little smile. It’s not exactly the greatest of first impressions, and she sincerely hopes the rest of the introductions don’t go this way.

Once she’s calm enough to move, Fitaetao helps her out of the speeder and then her breath is once again stricken, but this time for a different reason. The Chaf Estate is...

“Whoa.”

It’s  _ massive _ , multiple buildings beyond the eye can see, and the grounds themselves are absolutely stunning. They remind her of the botanical garden they’d visit on their trips to Coruscant; except this isn’t some tourist destination—this is Fitaetao’s  _ family estate. _

And now it’s her home.

Still reeling from  _ that _ little thought, she lets Fitaetao sweep her inside before she can feel like a fool for staring too long. There’s a whole heap of folks scattered about; more so than usual, Fitaetao had told her, family members returning to Sarvchi specifically for the memorial service. Most don’t even pay them much attention (for which she’s grateful), except for three figures making their way over towards them. One she immediately recognizes, the other two she can only guess at.

Honestly, she never thought she’d see Brierly Ronan again. And given the wave of emotions rolling off of him, he never thought he’d see her again either.

“Rhiona.” His smile, one she had once thought to be almost irritating, is heartwarming. “Or is it Mitth’ion’ala now?”

“Nala is fine.” She returns the smile, watching as he holds out his hand, then reconsiders as he pulls her in for a (gentle) hug. A hug she instantly melts into, because when you go through something like Rhiona had, you tend to be a little on the touch-starved side of things. 

When they part she swears there are tears in his eyes. “When we heard your shuttle never made it to Csilla, I...”

“I know.” She wipes at her own tears. “But I’m...I’ll be okay.” She gives one of his hands a quick squeeze.

Formbi makes his way over then to claim his husband, and as he does this Fitaetao directs her over to two women who can only be his mothers. Rhiona feels a sudden burst of nerves in the pit of her stomach and fumbles in her mind for the proper greeting. Does she bow? Does she curtsy? She’s not  _ really _ a guest, but neither is she  _ truly _ family (yet?). 

In the end she settles for a polite nod to each of them. “ Chaf’amri’novali.” The blood daughter, Formbi’s sister. “Chaf’eel’dasklia.” The former Navigator.

“Oh, you said those almost perfectly my dear!” Famri exclaims, with Feelda nodding enthusiastically. “But I insist that you call me ‘Mum’.” 

“And I insist that you call me ‘Ma’.” Feelda chimes in.

Rhiona can already feel her lip quivering as she glances up at Fitaetao for confirmation, who offers her a soft smile. And that’s all it takes—she slaps a hand to her mouth before bursting into tears, completely overwhelmed at the hospitality of these total strangers.

“Oh, my sweet little one.” Famri coos in her rolling Cheunh as she pulls Rhiona to the nearest sofa. Feelda is close to follow, and soon enough Rhiona finds herself engulfed in the loving embrace of two moms and it’s almost too much to take yet it’s just  _ so perfect. _ She’s not sure how long they stay like that; certainly long enough that she starts to doze off because she’s brought back to the present by Feelda—Ma—speaking.

“Sunshine, I think maybe you should get your human to your apartment.”

Fitaetao  _ (Sunshine?) _ easily lifts her into his arms, and she offers no resistance as he carries her out of the busy room and down a series of corridors. When they finally enter what she assumes is his apartment she’s more awake, and just in time to get a good look at the place. 

It’s...big.

Just the sitting area alone is bigger than her quarters on the  _ Devastator.  _

Then again, given the size and overall grandeur of the entire estate itself, it really shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Fitaetao leads her down a hall to a room that, is, again, much larger than anything she’s used to having.

“Your room.” He seems...a little uncertain about the proclamation, and not because he’s been primarily sticking to Cheunh in an attempt to acclimate her more to the language. “I did not want to assume anything...”

“It’s okay, Fitaetao.” It is...and yet, it isn’t. But she’s too tired to want to argue about it right now, let alone even think about it all. “I should probably get some rest.” It’s not  _ really _ an excuse to get out of an awkward conversation, not when she’s still recovering, and not when it’s a struggle to stay awake while standing.

Fitaetao nods, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “I will be right down the hall if you need me.”

Turns out that she does need him.

Despite how exhausted she is, physically and emotionally, sleep is elusive that evening. She gives up after about two hours of tossing and turning, padding out on bare feet into the darkened hall. There’s light coming out from under Fitaetao’s door; she knows that, in general, Chiss need less sleep than humans so she’s taking it as a sign that he’s still awake.

For a moment she almost knocks, then realizes how silly that is. They’re...well, they’re  _ whatever _ they are. She doesn’t need to knock, so she opens the door and walks right in, relieved when all he does is glance up from his questis and pull back the covers for her. Like he expected this to happen. She all but bounds onto the bed, curling up against him, feeling that familiar sense of safety and comfort wash over her.

She’s asleep within minutes.

~~~

Feesa’s memorial service isn’t exactly what she expects.

Then again, it’s her first Chiss memorial service, so she’s not sure what she was expecting in the first place.

Certainly not for someone to be wearing  _ that, _ something she doesn’t realize she voices out loud until she hears the slight snicker coming from behind her.

_ Kriff. _

But also...she had said that in Basic, which only leaves so many folks that could have understood her.

She glances up as the mystery figure moves to take a seat next to her, a mixture of relief, curiosity, and embarrassment washing over her as she sees that it’s Formbi. This is his  _ niece’s memorial service _ for crying out loud.

“I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—”

“No need to apologize, my dear. I wholeheartedly agree with you.” A flicker of mischief dances about his eyes as he leans in and surreptitiously nods towards someone else. “And what about  _ that _ one?”

Rhiona considers a moment. “Maybe for a club, yes. But not a memorial service.” They both erupt into a fit of snickers, composing themselves when someone gives them a dirty look.

_ Never trust a politician, _ her momma always said. And here she is, dishing on people’s fashion choices with one. Rhiona desperately hopes that she’s even in a position to be doing so in the first place; but Fitaetao had helped her pick out her clothes (again, not her own, yet) and Famri (Mum) had tied the veil to cover up the patches of her hair that were still growing in. When she’d caught herself in the mirror she had looked, well, not at all like herself, but still good.

The moment of levity fades into a stretch of (mostly) comfortable silence before Formbi speaks again.

“How are you faring so far, my dear?” It’s a loaded question, and not one she’s expecting. Not when today is about Formbi’s niece.

“I...” Rhiona trails off, considering her answer. “I can’t help but feel that it ain’t fair that I’m even here, you know? Like how many folks right now are wonderin’ if this tiny human was worth Feesa’s life. Or if even ten of us were worth her life. I feel like I have this massive weight hangin’ over my head because of everything she did, and I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do with my life now.”

Formbi takes both of Rhiona’s hands in his. “I can assure you that those of us who really matter—Feesa’s mothers, her  _ brother _ , her uncle—none of us are thinking that. And if anyone is, then send them my way and I shall deal with them.” His grin is almost feral at that last part, and she can just picture him ripping into any poor soul that dared voice such an opinion. 

Rhiona lets out a small laugh as she sniffles, and Formbi moves one of his hands to wipe at her tears.

“The most important thing you need to know about my niece is that she would have fought with the same fervor were it one of you or one thousand of you. If you wish to honor her spirit, then all you need to do is simply  _ live _ your life to its fullest. Be happy. Marry my lovesick fool of a nephew and, ancestors help me, the Mitth blood daughter.” Formbi chuckles when Rhiona feels her cheeks heating up. “Don’t act like there’s not already a bet going on for how long it takes for a bonding bracelet to show up on your wrist.”

Rhiona’s blush deepens, yet she feels her heart warming at the thought of it all...even if it is  _ a lot _ to take in.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Ronan says as he approaches them, “but I need to borrow Nala.”

She quirks a brow at that, but allows Ronan to help her up from the seat, being sure to place a quick kiss to Formbi’s cheek before departing. Curiosity takes over as Ronan leads her down a quiet path and to a more secluded area of the estate grounds and one of the (many) gardens. They finally come to a stop in a small grotto. Fitaetao is there waiting, as are Famri and Feelda...along with three candles. 

And with those candles are three stones engraved with the names of her brothers.

Rhiona’s footsteps falter at that.

“I don’t...I don’t understand.” She looks to Ronan, then Fitaetao, surprised that she’s able to get out the words in Cheunh still. 

“We know that you were not able to have any sort of service for your brothers.” Fitaetao offers, coming to stand beside her.

“But they were...”

Imperials.

Enemies.

“Your family.” Famri says with a finality that puts an end to any other objections she may have had.

“The candles?” Rhiona looks to Ronan once again.

“I asked Eli if he knew anything about Bakuran traditions.” Ronan says as he ushers her towards the bench acting as an altar. 

Fitaetao gives her shoulder a comforting squeeze before she kneels and lights the first candle, tears already streaming down her face as she utters the words passed down from generation to generation.

“Gods and Goddesses of old, I beseech thee. Please take this man, Ravi Lascelles, into the realm eternal...”


	8. The Shelter, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhiona's experiences on Sarvchi during the attack at Rentor. (Or: What it's like to be a former Imperial when the Empire is attacking the Chiss)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should be reading Inbound Flight anyway, but for this one definitely make sure that you're caught up through the latest chapter of [Inbound Flight: For Home and Song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493898).

_You're not my homeland anymore_   
_So what am I defendin' now?_   
_You were my town_   
_Now I'm in exile seein' you out_

_—Exile,_ Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver 

~~~

The alarm slices into the relative peace of the afternoon, its piercing sound startling to be sure (though, honestly, part of her is almost grateful for the distraction; if Cheunh is a difficult language to learn to speak it’s doubly difficult to learn to  _ write). _ Rhiona doesn’t even think to panic until Fitaetao comes running into her room. The look on his face is serious, composed, but it’s the anxiety rolling off of him in waves that causes her to suck in a breath that clues her in to the severity of the situation.

“We must get to the shelter.”

Shelter?

In the three weeks since arriving on Sarvchi (and in the weeks prior to arriving), he hadn’t gotten around to  _ that _ bit, but there’s no time to ask as he grabs her, practically dragging her out of the apartment and down a series of corridors before they start going down what feels like a never ending set of stairs.

It’s obvious that they’re underground now, and the hairs on the back of her neck stick up just a bit at the unnatural feeling of it all. When they finally get settled in a set of (surprisingly) comfortable chairs, Rhiona gets her first chance to get some information.

“What’s goin’ on?” She sticks with Basic, for now. Something tells her this conversation will require it.

Fitaetao hesitates, as though he’s choosing his words wisely—not a good sign. “Rentor is under attack.”

Rhiona frowns slightly at that. She doesn’t know much about Rentor, beyond its location. “Rentor ain’t that close. So why’re we all down here?”

“It is standard procedure when the Ascendancy is under attack.” 

Well, that makes sense.

Sort of.

Her brows furrow as she continues to consider it all, one last detail still niggling at her. “Well, who is it? You said Rentor was under attack, but never said who was doin’ the attackin’.”

Fitaetao sighs, and now she  _ definitely _ knows that it’s not going to be something she’s going to like. “The Empire of Lesser Space.”

At least he said  _ the _ Empire and not  _ your _ Empire. But still, it feels like a punch to the stomach, and all she can manage is a small little “Oh.”

Is Corbin there, leading one of the ships?

Does he even know that she’s alive?

She gives her head a little shake to pull herself back to the present. “Well, what’re we supposed to do?”

“We wait.”

Rhiona blinks at him. “That’s it? We wait?”

Fitaetao nods, seeming far too at ease with the whole thing as he leans back in the chair, his arm around her.

Rhiona, well, Rhiona was never very good at just waiting.

But she’s left with no choice but to try.

And for a while, it works.

Then it's all just...too much.

Too many eyes on her, too many voices. Too many thoughts flying around. Too many feelings.

She has to get out. Or at least get  _ away, _ get out from under Fitaetao’s arm that she knows is meant to comfort but has only grown to become oppressive as the minutes tick by.

With a slight huff she slides out from under his arm and stands, ignoring the look (and wave) of confusion tinged with the smallest amount of hurt sent in her direction as she scans the perimeter of the shelter for a door or a hallway or just  _ somewhere _ to go.

“Where are you going?” Fitaetao asks in Basic, his voice low and laced with concern.

Rhiona can’t help it; she turns on him, arms crossed over her chest, a serious look on her face. “To go send an encoded message to my people.” For a moment it’s almost as though Fitaetao believes her, so she rolls her eyes to cover the (severe) hurt. “Nowhere, apparently.” She mutters, all too aware of the eyes staring a little  _ too _ intently in her direction now.

“What’re you looking at?” She snaps at one of them; she thinks it’s one of Fitaetao’s cousins. (Hey, it’s only been three weeks; even for someone who grew up with a big family there are a  _ lot _ of Chaf to get straight).

“Nala...” There’s an unfamiliar level of warning to his voice. What’s even more unfamiliar, and perhaps worse still, is the disappointment she feels through her  _ gift. _

He’s disappointed.

In her.

She’s still in the midst of processing all of  _ that _ when Fitaetao gently, but insistently, tugs her off towards a small room in the far corner of the shelter. There’s a thin layer of dust on everything, including the tray of glasses on the table, a feeling of disuse to the room. To the shelter in general, really, and she idly wonders when it last had to be used.

Probably about ten months ago, when the Empire  _ last _ attacked the Chiss...

“What is it that is truly the problem?” Fitaetao starts in on her no sooner than the door has closed behind him.

He’s upset; she doesn’t need her gift to tell her that (even though it does). His Basic becomes more formal, more measured and composed the more emotional he gets.

“My  _ problem, _ ” she returns, one hand on her hip as she gestures towards the door with the other, “is everyone out there starin’ at me like I’m some sort of exotic animal at a zoo.”

“They are not...” He starts in Basic, sighs, then switches to Cheunh. It’s how she knows that he’s already done with this conversation (argument, whatever). “They are likely concerned because they know of the difficult choice you had to make—”

Rhiona snorts, cutting him off. “What choice?” She sticks with Basic, too upset and too frustrated to consider the translations right now. “I was captured and spent six months in a prison. That’s not exactly much of a choice.”

“I was referring more to the choice you made when you gave the Imperial communications protocols to the CEDF. No doubt that is making a difference as we speak. I am certain that—”

Again she cuts him off, this time by shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Yeah, and I didn’t even remember I did that until three weeks ago.”

“Nala...”

“Would you just stop calling me that for five gods damn seconds!” She snaps at him, perhaps harsher than she intends to, but it almost feels  _ good _ to yell and there’s not even a hint of remorse when she catches him flinch slightly. “My name ain’t Nala, or Mitth’ion’ala. It’s Rhiona. Lascelles. Why is it that I’m expected to conform to your convoluted namin’ conventions and to learn how to pronounce Chaf'itaeta'osdec, but you can’t even be bothered to call me Rhiona.”

She knows why.

It’s because she’s the human here. The outsider. 

She’s expected to conform because it’s the way of the Chiss, and the Chiss are her hosts, and she should be grateful for it.

She  _ is _ grateful for it.

Just not at this very moment.

At this very moment she is tired and hungry and upset, and she wants to be anywhere but here.

“I wanna go home.” Her voice is so quiet, so defeated, and she hates it.

“I know.” Fitaetao responds, and while she knows he’s just trying to help, it is absolutely the worst thing to say in this moment.

“No you don’t.” There’s a dangerous edge to her voice and she lets out a sad, bitter laugh. “For cryin’ out loud, Fitaetao, we’re livin’ in your  _ family estate. _ You have  _ everythin’ _ that I ain’t never gonna have, ever again.” She starts pacing, no longer able to remain still.

“They could be your family, if you let them. If you just tried—”

“I am tryin!” She stops her pacing, her voice loud enough that surely anyone within earshot of the room will have heard her (if they haven’t already been gathering to eavesdrop).

“Well try harder!” Fitaetao shouts back.

Rhiona’s eyes go wide; Fitaetao  _ never _ raises his voice with her like that. For a moment she actually considers taking a swing at him. Maybe punching him will help relieve some of the pent up emotions...

No.

She can’t do that, not to him.

“Go away. I want to be alone.” She forces the words out through clenched teeth.

“Nala—”

“I said GO. AWAY!” She screams, and every single glass on the table shatters. She jumps and gasps at that, right before she doubles over, a pain unlike anything she’s ever felt before slicing through her head.

“Nala?” Fitaetao asks, cautiously taking a step towards her.

“No! D-don’t.” She shakes her head, immediately regretting the motion as the entire room turns on its axis. “Don’t touch me.” 

It’s as though her...outburst has only opened her up even further to the emotions of the others in the shelter. Every bit of fear, every ounce of anxiety—they’re all amplified ten-fold to the point that she feels it all as her own.

It’s too much.

_ Too much. _

She crumbles to the ground with a sharp cry, hands going over her ears in an attempt to try to block out the voices, to block out the feelings.

But it won’t stop.

_ Won’t stop. _

She’s not aware of Fitaetao leaving, or that he returns with someone else. Her entire world has narrowed to the pain, and the fear, and the feeling of her hands on her head. When two sets of  _ other  _ hands fall on her she screams, lashing out and thrashing around as they get her wrapped up tightly in a blanket. 

“NO!” She screams, in Basic, but the word—and her actions, are universal.

“Easy, little one.” It’s Ma, her soothing voice somehow able to break through everything. “We are just trying to help.”

Fitaetao takes a hold of her as they get her secured in the blanket, and through the tears she watches as they place something warm and wet across her eyes, and then...and then they just hold her, neither of them saying anything until the crying and the cursing stops.

She knows she falls asleep at some point because she wakes up with her head in Ma’s lap and her feet in Fitaetao’s. They’re on a sofa, too, but still in the small room.

“I’m sorry about the glasses.” Rhiona’s voice is hoarse from all the crying and screaming.

Ma scoffs. “It’s alright, little one. I never liked them that much anyway.” She runs her fingers through Rhiona’s hair as she speaks, just like her own momma would do when she was upset. 

But for the first time she actually doesn’t miss her momma, because now she has  _ two _ mommas. Well, technically. Fitaetao hasn’t proposed,  _ yet, _ but it’s been all but assumed that he will and both Mum and Ma (and Uncle Formbi and Uncle Ronan and basically everyone) have already started treating her like family even just in these past three weeks.

Rhiona went from losing (literally) three brothers, and her momma, and a (very) large extended family to gaining two new very  _ (very) _ large families practically overnight. It’s...a bit overwhelming, if not heartwarming at the same time. Sometimes she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get used to it, or if she even deserves it.

And other times, like now, with Ma stroking her hair and Fitaetao gently rubbing her feet, she tells herself to just enjoy it.

“How long was I out?”

“Only about an hour.” Fitaetao responds, concern lacing his voice, and when she glances up at him she catches the small frown as though he’s waging a silent battle with himself over whether or not to tell her to get some more sleep. 

It’s a constant worry for him, she knows. Does she sleep too much? Too little? Does she stay alive throughout the night? More than a few times she’s awoken to his hand on her wrist, his fingers on her pulsepoint. And by the end of the second week she’d all but unofficially moved into his bedroom rather than even bother starting out the night in hers.

She worms a hand out from under the blanket to grab onto his, giving it a squeeze. “I’m fine, my heart.”

There wasn’t a direct (or at least a good) translation for ‘hon’ in Cheunh, so ‘my heart’ worked the best, and the more she said it the more it felt right (especially considering that her first words when she was given the go-ahead to speak had been ‘I love you’).

Fitaetao picks up her hand and kisses it, then the three of them settle into a stretch of silence before Rhiona breaks it, finally putting voice to the worry that’s been weighing on her this entire time.

“What if my brother Corbin is there? He’s a Commodore now, he’ll be in command. If something happens...” She stops herself short, choking on her own words.

“If he is there, then that is own decision.” Ma’s voice is resolute, brooking no argument.

“But I—”

“But nothing, Nala.” Ma’s fingers continue to rake through Rhiona’s hair, the motion almost hypnotic. “You are one of us now; a Mitth by law, a Chaf by all but oath. That is all you need to worry about.”

Rhiona opens her mouth to offer a (weak) counter argument, but when she catches a shared look from both Ma and Fitaetao she thinks better of it. Instead, she lets herself get swept up in the soothing motion of Ma’s fingers against her scalp, and soon enough her eyes grow heavy and she feels herself drifting off once again.


End file.
